


Teas and Parents

by IdrisSmith



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Extra Fluffy, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/pseuds/IdrisSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock invited Molly to tea with his parents. Mr. Holmes notices many similarities between himself and Molly and gave her advice over what to do when she and Sherlock start dating.</p>
<p>[Nonny prompt]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teas and Parents

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this makes up for the stabbing feelings you might have felt over my earlier fanfiction. And thank you Nonny for the prompt. I do wish I know who you are so I can gift the work to you.

Over the years, Molly had learned to expect the unexpected things from Sherlock, from strange request of various body parts, faking his own death to taking down the nefarious Moriarty. One could say she was fairly used to his eccentricity and had made a point to simply go with it than to fight it. She had found that bit to be simpler than dealing with his mood swings. She had heard of them, of course. John had been fairly illustrative when it came to his tale of Sherlock’s childish antiques. It was so descriptive she often wondered if John had exaggerated bits and pieces of his story. Then again, knowing Sherlock for a period of time even before John was in the picture told her a different story.

 

Sherlock was no ordinary man and she should have not expected anything less from him. Though, she couldn’t help but find herself confused when he strode into the lab on an odd Wednesday morning, announcing they were to have tea with his parents. Tea, with his parents. Sherlock never asked, he announced, she was used to that, but, having tea with his parents were the last thing she thought he would asked of her. Why on earth would they be having tea with his parents? Was that normal?

 

She consulted John shortly afterwards, wondering if Sherlock made a habit of asking his friends to meet his parents, earning her a breathless laughter from the good doctor.

 

“Molly, this is Sherlock we’re talking about. The first and only time I met his parents was when he was kicking them out of his flat,” John said as soon as he was calmed enough to form a coherent sentence.

 

Clearly asking John was not helpful to her case, causing her to spend the rest of the day and the two days to Saturday on her toes. Part of her was hoping Sherlock was kidding or it was merely a dream. It was easy seeing he didn’t make further appearance at the lab or her flat after spouting the nonsense about tea. Still, part of her wished it was not a dream and it was real. Not for romantic reasons, of course. She had long accepted her place in Sherlock’s heart was as a friend. But, she was always curious of how he had grown up. He always seemed like worlds apart from her.

 

Then the little voice inside of her reminded her hope can be paralyzing and she pushed any glimmer of anything resembling a hope to the back of her mind.

 

So, imagine her surprised when Sherlock was propped outside her door late Saturday morning. As always, he was immaculately dressed while she stood awkwardly in her oversized t-shirt that might have belonged to an old boyfriend and a short.

 

“You forgot,” he said, looking disappointed.

 

She blinked.

 

“Tea, with my parents,” he reminded her, impatiently so.

 

She blinked again, trying to determine if she was still asleep. It had to be a dream. There was no other explanation as to why Sherlock would be there reminding her they were supposed to have tea with his parents like it was the most normal thing to do.

 

“Molly…” he asked warily when she pinched herself.

 

“Not a dream?” she asked in a daze.

 

To his credit, he went with the simplest answer, “No,”

 

“We’re really having tea with your parents?” she asked again, gathering her thoughts.

 

He nodded.

 

She swore, “Shit!” and dashed back into her flat, leaving Sherlock at the opened door, confused. To say that Molly didn’t feel like a royal idiot was an understatement. She hurriedly worked her way around her room, taking the quickest shower known to mankind before pulling a sundress she deemed acceptable enough for the occasion. It didn’t even register in her mind as to why they were having tea with his parents. Not when she panted back into the door, ready within twenty minutes or even during the long drive at the back of the town car she suspected provided by Mycroft.

 

By the time the thought crossed her mind, she was being introduced to his pleasantly wonderful parents. His mother had beamed at her and pulled her into a hug at once, chastising Sherlock for not bringing her sooner. She blinked, her mind screaming with questions that didn’t quite reach her mouth. Gracefully, she accepted his father’s offered hand, leading her into the back garden.

 

‘Sherlock bloody Holmes has a garden, of course he does!’ She groaned internally as she sat on the chair Sherlock had pulled out for her.

 

“Molly dear,” his mother said charmingly and Molly knew without a doubt where Sherlock had inherited that charm, “I’m so glad to finally meet you in person,”

 

Molly smiled, “Likewise, Mrs Holmes,”

 

“Please, it’s Violet,” Mrs Holmes replied readily.

 

Molly noted how uneasy Sherlock was from the corner of her eyes. She resisted the urge to turn to him, knowing she would have started an avalanche of question he would rather not have asked in front of his parents. His very normal and sweet parents, a stark contrast to Sherlock and Mycroft were. She wondered to herself if they were adopted.

 

“I’m sorry we’re late,” she apologized again, “I had a late shift at the mo- hospital,” she added, correcting herself before she blurted the word ‘morgue’ out. As sweet as Sherlock parents were, the last thing she wanted was to shock them with her line of work. Not many can stomach it, not even Tom’s parents who were very glad of their broken engagement over a year ago.

 

“Not to worry, Molly,” it was Sherlock’s father who spoke this time, “I just hope Sherlock didn’t keep you past your working hours. I’m sure you would have liked the comfort of your own bed than attending to his every whim when a body rolled into the morgue at night,”

 

She was surprised his parents were well aware of her career of choice and heard Sherlock scoffed at his father’s insinuation of him being troublesome for her.

 

“I haven’t been to Barts in days,” Sherlock said defensively.

 

Molly expected more, Sherlock was often theatrical, but he didn’t clarify further.

 

“Y-you know I work at the morgue?” she asked carefully, it was a subject she tended to tread carefully around.

 

Sherlock’s parents exchanged a look and Molly felt her heart dropped onto the floor before she heard their reply.

 

“Of course, dear,” Violet said sweetly, “Sherlock didn’t even realize how he wouldn’t stop talking about you and your work. He’s quite proud of you,”

 

To say Molly was surprised wouldn’t be far from the truth. She gaped at the elderly who looked back only with warm acceptance. They didn’t shied from her, they didn’t warily pull their hand back and take what they think a discreet sniff from their finger to see if she had rubbed the smell on them. They were, in fact, quite the opposite. The fact Violet had mentioned how Sherlock talked about her escaped Molly as she processed what was happening. Well, Sherlock and Mycroft were definitely not adopted.

 

“Are you quite well, dear?” Violet asked, concerned was written all over her face, but, more reserved than the one on Sherlock’s father’s face.

 

“Yes,” Molly answered quickly, a little too high pitched, “I mean, yes. I’m fine, Violet,” she corrected herself quickly as she noted how Sherlock’s lips turned upwards into his signature smirk.

 

“How about that tea?” Mr Holmes asked, easing the tension. He was the calmer one, Molly could tell that much, “Molly, how about you come and help me with the tea. Violet hates to admit it, but, I make better tea than her.” The older man rose to his feet and his wife fondly slapped his side.

 

“Of course,” Molly replied brightly, following suit and easily followed the elder Holmes into the kitchen, overlooking the garden.

 

“He’s quite taken with you,” he said as he busied himself, pulling out the kettle and box of teas from the cupboard. Molly stood aside, waiting for any request for her help, but the elder Holmes seemed content working on his own.

 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied, keeping her gaze on him.

 

The elder Holmes smiled as he turned the tap, “He’s very much like his mother, that boy,” he said, leaving Molly to wonder. Her eyes darted towards the garden where Sherlock fell into an easy conversation with his mother, “But you, you’re a lot like me when I first met Vi,”

 

“How so?” Molly asked, turning back, catching only the last bit of Sherlock’s mirth from the distance.

 

“We both love the impossible ones,” he replied fondly, putting the kettle over the stove and turning the heat on, “the unpredictably beautiful chaos wrapped inside a human shell and yes, the wonderful mind as well,”

 

Molly blushed scarlet, “I love him as a friend,” she said, though she knew it sounded like a lie even to those who knew nothing about them.

 

Sherlock’s father grinned knowingly, the same type of grin Sherlock had. Molly was left to wonder if her child with Sherlock would inherit that grin when she caught the elder Holmes’ eyes. He could tell, she knew he could tell what was playing in her mind. Not the way Sherlock could, no. The way only a parent could.

 

“I doubt he feels the same,” she said, admitting her unwavering heart, “not to mention, he always has better offer,”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Molly,” Mr Holmes said easily, sitting on a chair across from Molly, “Ah, I guess we both have that in common as well. But, we still persist, did we not?” he added thoughtfully, studying Molly as he spoke. “I would say what Vi’s mother told me all those years ago. I do think you deserve better, but I thank God you chose to love him,”

 

“It’s easy,” Molly said softly, “to love him, despite his frustrating nature,”

 

Mr Holmes nodded warmly, “Agreed,”

 

She smiled, thankful to have someone who understood in a way she meant it.

 

“May I offer you an advice?” he asked her, cautious not to step his boundary and Molly had to agree Mr Holmes was a lot like her as he had said earlier.

 

She nodded.

 

“Ask,” Mr Holmes said, “Get his attention on you and you alone and ask. He’s far too wrapped up in his world to notice unless you give him the push,”

 

“I asked him for coffee once,” Molly admitted, chuckling at the memory. Only she would find a man beating a cadaver senseless extremely appealing. Then again, she had always had questionable taste in men. Even if Sherlock and everyone else had been kind not to point out she used to date a criminal mastermind, she hadn’t forgotten about it.

 

Mr Holmes looked surprised, “When was this?”

 

“About eight years ago, I think,” she replied as she did a quick math in her head. Was it eight or was it six or seven years? She should have been better at mathematics than this.

 

“He said no?” Mr Holmes correctly guessed.

 

“In a manner of speaking, he didn’t notice. He thought I was asking if he would like coffee,” Molly replied, amused at her own awkward attempt of flirtation.

 

“Then, may I offer you another advice?” Mr Holmes asked again.

 

Molly nodded.

 

“Don’t take no for an answer,” he said with a wide smile. “Sherlock is like Vi when she was younger. They are gifted with intellect, but they fell short when it came to their own heart,” he added, looking out the window, catching the mother and son engrossed with something Sherlock was showing on his phone. “And they’re scared, more than they can admit. It’s an uncalculated risk for them. They can’t quantify it one way or another and it frightens them. There were too many variables and ifs,”

 

“Don’t you think Sherlock deserves someone…more?” Molly asked, overwhelmed by the elder Holmes affection.

 

“More?” Mr Holmes asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Someone prettier or far more intelligent than me,” Molly clarified. She braced herself as the words fell out of her mouth. Parents always seek for the best when it came to their children, why should Sherlock’s father be any different? She was nothing special, she was just Molly.

 

A smile like Sherlock’s formed on Mr Holmes’ face. “I asked that question too, even after I managed to woo Vi. I’d tell you how but I can’t remember,” he said, tapping his fingers lighting on his thigh, “and I’ll repeat the same thing her mother told me. No. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him,”

 

Molly was lost for words, overwhelmed by how she was perceived in the elder Holmes’ eyes. The sound of the kettle going off startled her, effectively putting an end to their conversation. Molly was quick on her feet, retrieving the kettle and pouring the hot water into the teapot. She moved with ease as she placed the teapot and cups with their saucer in the tray when Mr Holmes placed them near her.

 

“Molly,” Mr Holmes spoke again as she was about to pick up the tray, “remind him you’re precious and that he is important to you. He already know this, he’s just not good at admitting,”

 

“Thank you,” Molly said, the only thing she could think of saying to the elder.

 

“What for?” he asked in return.

 

“For thinking I’m good enough for your son,” she said, picking up the tray with ease before Sherlock’s father could.

 

He shook his head, “No, you’re better than good,” he said, “now let’s get this to them or Sherlock would think I’ve chased you away,”

 

Molly smiled, starting off as Mr Holmes followed her. She had always missed her father after he was gone and Sherlock’s father reminded her of what a father’s love and parents’ love to a child felt like. She felt a little envious and glad. Something told her even if nothing were to transpire between her and Sherlock; she would always be welcomed by the two. Though, when she saw Sherlock was quick on his feet as he saw her coming, she knew that would never be the case.

 

He took the tray from her without a word, placing it on the table as she reclaimed her seat next to him. It surprised her even more when Sherlock started to pour the tea without protest and then move his chair slightly closer to her and unexpectedly took her hand in his. “I hope my father didn’t tell you all the gory details about my childhood or teenage years,” he said, worried.

 

“No,” she said, feeling braver, “But there’s still time,”


End file.
